(no subject)
How I got here
This morning I was thinking about my grandparents. I was thinking about this city and how we got here and why I adore both so much.
People always seem suprised to learn that I'm not first generation. This is probably because I have very ethnic features. No one seems to be quite sure what ethnicity I actually am. I like to make people guess because I think it's fun. The first guesses are usually Jewish (with this nose, and hair in this city, and a name like Rachel, you can't blame them) then I get Greek usually next, then Turkish, Iranian, Iraqi, Isreali, Indian, Pakistani, and any and every Latin American ethnicity, especially Argentinian... I've even gotten Ethopian a couple times.
I am Sicilian, Tunisian and a tiny bit Lithuanian (although the only Lithuanian features I have are my last name and my ability to play chess)
The history of my family in New York is a really interesting and fun story, and it's about as classic as they come. It's a long story so I'm just going to tell one bit of it.
My grandfather's parents, the LiCausi's, came here from Tunisia in the early 1900's. They were quite well off, and came in the first class section of the boat to Ellis Island. In those days first class immigrants only had to state where they were from and they were usually good to go. Everyone else had to go through a rigorous health check at the facility, which could go on for days.
When asked where they were from my great grandfather responded "Africa". The immigration official asked repeatedly until he said he was from Sicily. That side of my family was from Sicily originally, but had been in Tunisia for a very long time. They woudln't let in anyone from Africa, but Sicly was okay.
They went straight to Brooklyn and bought a brownstone. My great grandmother, being a finicky upperclass lady, immediately wanted the entire place remodeled. When they started knocking down the walls they found that the walls were stuffed with counterfeit $10 bills.
The still had their business back in Tunis, and they frequently went back there. My grandfather was born in 1909, and the first language he learned was French, thanks to his mother believing that French was the only civilized language, and becaue of his visits to Tunis as a boy. He also spoke Sicilain Italian thanks to his father. He learned English a little later in his childhood, and theres a story that his first words in English were when he heard people celebrating the end of WWI in the streets. Whether or not he actually knew what he was saying, I'm not sure, but his first english words were "The war is over!" and his mother responded in French "From your mouth to God's ears!"
At my last job, I had a manager from Morocco, who always accidentally spoke to me in French. It struck me as hilarious, I certainly don't think I look like a French speaking person. I kind of forgot that I'm descended from a big bunch of French speakers, and that I must look like them.
Well I'm sure that was boring for everyone. That's only one small bit of my family history. I don't think anyone's ever written it down before. It get's alot more interesting actually, but I'm not going to put it all in one entry, because it would be ridiculously long.
This morning I was thinking about my grandparents. I was thinking about this city and how we got here and why I adore both so much.
People always seem suprised to learn that I'm not first generation. This is probably because I have very ethnic features. No one seems to be quite sure what ethnicity I actually am. I like to make people guess because I think it's fun. The first guesses are usually Jewish (with this nose, and hair in this city, and a name like Rachel, you can't blame them) then I get Greek usually next, then Turkish, Iranian, Iraqi, Isreali, Indian, Pakistani, and any and every Latin American ethnicity, especially Argentinian... I've even gotten Ethopian a couple times.
I am Sicilian, Tunisian and a tiny bit Lithuanian (although the only Lithuanian features I have are my last name and my ability to play chess)
The history of my family in New York is a really interesting and fun story, and it's about as classic as they come. It's a long story so I'm just going to tell one bit of it.
My grandfather's parents, the LiCausi's, came here from Tunisia in the early 1900's. They were quite well off, and came in the first class section of the boat to Ellis Island. In those days first class immigrants only had to state where they were from and they were usually good to go. Everyone else had to go through a rigorous health check at the facility, which could go on for days.
When asked where they were from my great grandfather responded "Africa". The immigration official asked repeatedly until he said he was from Sicily. That side of my family was from Sicily originally, but had been in Tunisia for a very long time. They woudln't let in anyone from Africa, but Sicly was okay.
They went straight to Brooklyn and bought a brownstone. My great grandmother, being a finicky upperclass lady, immediately wanted the entire place remodeled. When they started knocking down the walls they found that the walls were stuffed with counterfeit $10 bills.
The still had their business back in Tunis, and they frequently went back there. My grandfather was born in 1909, and the first language he learned was French, thanks to his mother believing that French was the only civilized language, and becaue of his visits to Tunis as a boy. He also spoke Sicilain Italian thanks to his father. He learned English a little later in his childhood, and theres a story that his first words in English were when he heard people celebrating the end of WWI in the streets. Whether or not he actually knew what he was saying, I'm not sure, but his first english words were "The war is over!" and his mother responded in French "From your mouth to God's ears!"
At my last job, I had a manager from Morocco, who always accidentally spoke to me in French. It struck me as hilarious, I certainly don't think I look like a French speaking person. I kind of forgot that I'm descended from a big bunch of French speakers, and that I must look like them.
Well I'm sure that was boring for everyone. That's only one small bit of my family history. I don't think anyone's ever written it down before. It get's alot more interesting actually, but I'm not going to put it all in one entry, because it would be ridiculously long.